


Cupcake

by SomewhereApart



Category: Battlestar Galactica
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereApart/pseuds/SomewhereApart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know what I miss?" Lee asks quietly, as they sit next to a campfire on Kobol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupcake

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://thrace-adama.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://thrace-adama.livejournal.com/)**thrace_adama** for Joy Day. Prompt: cupcake.

“You know what I miss?” Lee asks quietly, as they sit next to a campfire on Kobol.

“Dry clothes?” Kara mutters, shifting a little and noticing that residual moisture has crept through her sweats from the log she's sitting on. Great. She's cold and she's damp – this C-Buccs sweatsuit doesn't hold a candle to BDUs in terms of all-weather protection, that's for godsdamned sure – and her side aches like a bitch where she's still healing.

“That too,” Lee agrees with a quirk of his brow, before adding, “But I was going to say: cupcakes. You see any of those back on Caprica?”

Kara can't help it, she busts out a laugh. It makes her stitches burn even more, cutting her humor short. But she's still smiling and shaking her head as she presses her hand lightly over the wound through layers of cotton, then lets it drop. “Cupcakes,” she repeats with a little snort. “Gods, Lee, you're such a girl sometimes.”

“Hey – I seem to recall someone once claiming that she'd eat nothing but cupcakes for the rest of her life if it wouldn't – what was the phrase you used?” He scrunches his brows in a way that makes it look like he's thinking, but she can tell just by looking that he knows exactly what she said. She, on the other hand, has absolutely no memory of this conversation. “Make you blow up bigger than the blimp above Delphi Stadium?”

“Never happened,” she denies. “You're making it up, Apollo.”

“I am not – we were in that little place on Broad Street. The one we went to with Zak, remember? It was his birthday, they had those chocolate cupcakes with the cream cheese frosting and you ate about a dozen of them.”

“I did not,” she denies, but she remembers now. It was a few months before everything went to Hades in a Viper cockpit, and Lee had spent his leave in Delphi with them. They'd gone to a pyramid game, she and Lee had fleeced Zak at the triad table, and they'd practically drowned themselves in Ambrosia and Picon whiskey. In fact, she's pretty sure that midnight cupcake run had been a drunken one – which might explain why she'd forgotten all about it. Aside from the sexual tension they'd never been able to shake, it had been a damned good week. It seems like a dream now – like someone else's life.

“You had at least six,” Lee insists, pulling her out of her thoughts. “What was that place called again?”

“Sugarbomb,” Kara answers without thinking. She misses Zak, suddenly and fiercely. Misses living things, and populated planets that don't look like ghost towns, and nights where your biggest concern was whether or not it was possible to actually puke up your insides, and not whether or not the enemies of humanity have actually gotten their hands on your insides and taken souvenirs for the road. She thinks of broken mirrors and jagged glass, bright red blood and bubble-gum pink storefront paint. “Pretty good name for it now – I passed it with Helo, the whole storefront is blown out. Guess the cylons aren't big fans of baked goods.”

Her side twinges sharply again, and she sucks in a breath. Whatever Lee was about to say to her is forgotten, and his mouth draws into a frown. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” she dismisses, cupping a hand gently over her wound but schooling her face into a calm, pain-free mask.

“Kara, come on.” He's not buying it. “You've been favoring that side all day. What's wrong?”

“It's nothing,” she repeats, slowly and carefully, in case he missed it the first frakking time. “I got shot on Caprica, and the stitches hurt. That's all. No big.”

Lee's brows shoot up. “You were shot?”

Kara rolls her eyes, and mutters under her breath, “Here we go.” There'll be no stopping him now.

“You never said anything about being shot.”

“Yeah, well, I was saving it for a special occasion. Thought maybe I'd send a singing telegram or something. Think we've still got _those_ in the fleet?”

“Kara, this isn't funny. Let me look at it.”

“What?” She scrunches her brows together. “No.”

“Kara, come on. You've been hiking in the rain, sweating, it's dirty, and I haven't seen you change a bandage once since we got down here. A bullet wound needs to stay clean and dry, and–“

“Oh for frak's sake, fine,” she cuts him off – she doesn't have the patience for a lecture on the importance of proper first aid right now. “Go get the med kit, and I'll put a fresh bandage on it. But I promise you, I'm fine.”

He starts to stand, and she reaches out suddenly, on impulse, and grabs his wrist. “Hey, Lee?”

“Yeah?”

She can feel his pulse under her fingertips, strong and steady, and reminds herself that she's still here, and that he's still here, and that they're going to find the tomb of Athena, and then find Earth, and in the process, she's gonna kill every metal motherfrakker and sicko skinjob she can get her gunsights on. “How about if we make it to Earth,” she tells Lee, “I make you some of those cupcakes.”

Lee scoffs, smiles one of those brilliant smiles of his, and shakes his head. “Kara, if we make it to Earth, I'm not risking my life by eating your cooking.”

“Oh, frak off,” she laughs, giving him a shove, and he laughs as he heads off in the direction of the med kit. Kara waits for him to come back, and wonders how good the odds are that a rogue box of cake mix might have survived the attacks.


End file.
